


Wagers

by percivalentine



Category: Hand of Fate (Video Games)
Genre: Hate Sex, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 17:33:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14502033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percivalentine/pseuds/percivalentine
Summary: Kallas, our Player, finds himself in control, for once. Tempted by more than just the need to assert dominance after so long trapped at the Dealer's table, he ponders the implications of revealing what lies beneath a particular curtain...





	Wagers

It was sick. All of it, all of this. The way the old man was on his knees for him, choking at every buck of his hips. The silk of the Dealer’s half-mask dragged, almost tickling, along his length with every movement of the Dealer’s head. How close Kallas was to seeing what lay beneath that flimsy layer of fabric. The source of the pestilence. The convergence of all of those dark, protruding purple veins.

Was it so wrong? That Kallas thought about taking his hands from the Dealer’s head, where his fingers were tangling in his partner’s soft, silver hair… thought about hooking his finger around the mask the old man wore? Behind the curtain, that mouth, those _lips_ … A glimpse of the long, cold tongue, slick with spit? Though psychic and powerful in many other ways, the Dealer lacked the ability to read minds, thank Heaven. The same piercing eyes Kallas had grown to resent, to respect, to - in his weakest moments - even  _admire_ , looked up at him unaware. They seemed to take in every moan, every pulse of muscle, every movement with the sort of practiced, analytical air the Dealer always brought to the table. It would’ve been unnerving, mused Kallas idly, if it wasn’t so fucking hot.

Eventually, the Dealer pulled back for a longer breath. He had one of his hands wrapped firmly around Kallas’s base, preventing his length from rustling or moving the fabric of his mask as he did so. _Bastard,_ thought Kallas, tightening his fingers in the Dealer’s silvery hair, feeling the skin at the other man’s scalp with how hard he pulled. The Dealer, curse him, looked almost serene, thoughtful, _knowing_ as he tilted his head with the force of it, following Kallas’s momentum. Kallas thought about the golden fate tokens. Thought about feeling the weight of one of them in his palm, pushing it between the Dealer's lips, pressing the cold metal against his tongue like a priest delivering the eucharist. “Tiring out, old man?” asked Kallas, trying to remind himself that he was, for once, in control.

“Truthfully,” responded the Dealer with an air of nonchalance, “I hadn’t expected you to last so long. It’s been an eternity, after all.”

_Smug,_ the smartass. Of course, always. But Kallas couldn’t concentrate on much else besides the hoarse, almost _breathy_ quality the Dealer’s voice had taken. There was an added roughness from the way he had been absolutely ravaging the Dealer's throat. Kallas felt a shiver work its way down his spine just at the sound of it. “Not used to seeing you on your knees, wanted to _savor it,_ ” Kallas muttered, when he remembered how to speak enough not to stumble. Nothing would kill his arousal like being laughed at right now, certainly.

“Mm,” hummed the Dealer in response, as if he’d expected such an arrogant answer, “I forget how little of me you’ve actually witnessed. It’s been centuries, after all. But you’ve never seen much else outside of me, behind that table, in that rickety little caravan, have you?” Kallas felt a surge of misplaced anger and snapped the Dealer’s head back, exposing the old man’s throat. The subtle tones of amusement, ever-present in the Dealer's voice, were enough to make his blood boil.

“ _Can it,_ ” Kallas gritted through a tight jaw.

Ah, this never-ending give and take, thought the Dealer. What the Dealer cherished more than anything else about this player in particular was his willingness to use that godforsaken sharp tongue of his. There was a thin film of respect between them, but this animosity - what drove Kallas to shove his length back into the Dealer’s mouth to _shut him the fuck up_ \- was unique. Never before had the Dealer allowed himself to be so compromised, and he couldn’t say he wasn’t enjoying himself, down here in the dirt. When you spent every day, every _moment_ of your entire eternity playing games of life and death, puppeteering each soul that ended up at your table, it was nice to be humbled every once in a while.

 

“I could see _all_ of you,” Kallas was saying, voice thick with rage and something else, perhaps darker. “Right now. If I wanted.” Kallas took one of his hands out of the Dealer’s hair, ripping carelessly, and brought his fingers to play with the tie of one side of the fabric mask.

“But you won’t,” answered the older man, head bent at an awkward angle and utterly at Kallas’s mercy while somehow, _damn him_ , still managing to look dignified. “That’s a line you won’t cross.” The Dealer’s thoughts were interrupted as he felt Kallas’s length shove too far back in his throat, feeling the almost animal instinct to gag. How _human_ that instinct was, he thought as he fought to keep the involuntary tears away. Kallas’s hand, which had flirted with the idea of exposing the rest of his face to the cold night air, returned instead to its place in his hair. He pulled back, allowing the Dealer to catch his breath, to spit briefly into the sand. Still, however, Kallas's threats persisted.

“Why the fuck wouldn’t I?" he was saying, "Right now? _Is that a wager you’re willing to make?_ ”

 

The Dealer, to his player's complete surprise, began to laugh. Low and breathy, a secretive sort of sound made its way from behind the silken screen. He could feel the way Kallas’s arousal all but pulsed in his hand. It was now the Dealer’s turn to tighten his grip around what _he_ held in the balance.“I don’t think...” he began slowly, “...you’re in the position to be making _wagers,_ traveler.”


End file.
